Secrets and Lies
by louiseb
Summary: A flash fiction based on the nine minute Star Trek Into Darkness trailer to celebrate the new movie opening in the UK on May 9th. Spock's POV.


_I have never attempted to write Reboot fanfic before; up until now my stories have all been based in the TOS universe. But I was inspired to dash off the first few pars of this after seeing the nine minute trailer for STID back in December. It was supposed to develop into a story but it never did; it languished in my WIP folder and looked at me reproachfully. So I've decided, what the hell, I'll publish it as a flash fiction to celebrate the UK opening on May 9th. _

**SECRETS AND LIES**

It had worked. You have been successful. Even as you feel the heat mount, even as you watch the gauges on your suit start to bend and melt, a small part of your mind feels satisfaction that your secret will not survive you.

Your captain's voice is taut with strain. "If Spock were here and I were there, what would he do?"

"He'd let you die."

So success then even as you fail. Neither of them know. They do not even know that you hear their words, a dying crackle in your helmet. And now there is only one possible outcome to this mission. As the seconds count down to the 'ice cube' detonation you throw wide your arms to embrace oblivion. And, as your breathing rasps and slows in your ears, you try to ignore the knowledge that the satisfaction is mingled with regret.

-oOo-

When did hatred turn to... something else? And when did what you thought was love turn to indifference?

The two are not necessarily connected. But you suspect they are.

It is hard now to remember what you felt as you tightened your hands around the neck of James Kirk. The facts are clear in your memory but the emotions behind your actions are clouded by time and distance. It is as if you were another person. You must have hated him then.

Hate. An emotional echo of the immaturity of youth. It was as if the years had rewound to the small boy facing his tormentors.

"He's a traitor you know, your father. For marrying her, the human whore."

"You feel nothing. It must not even compute for you. You never loved her."

But, of course, the two scenes are linked. Kirk had been briefed by an expert - by yourself - he knew how to produce the fastest emotional response. Who to use. The image of her falling body still burned into your retinas.

In the time following the Narada's destruction the Captain spent weeks, months apologising, explaining. It became so wearisome you had no choice but to tell him there was no logic in bearing a grudge for words spoken with such cold calculation, so little real emotion.

And you did forgive the Captain. You could not, however, forgive your older self.

Nevertheless you had listened to him. You heard him speak of "a friendship that will define you both". You listened to his advice to stay on the _Enterprise _and_ "_do yourself a favour." You put aside logic and did what felt right. And the rightness of that decision became apparent from the moment you stepped on board the bridge and volunteered your services as First Officer.

Vulcans do not feel surprise. No, that is not quite accurate. Vulcans minimise the possibility of surprise by a dynamic process which involves continual multiple extrapolation of likely outcomes given current knowledge of protagonists and events.

In hindsight therefore it is logical to admit that there was a flaw in your original dataset for the protagonist who now captains the Enterprise.

That dataset had omitted to include an apparently limitless capacity for hard work, a memory for detail that almost qualifies as eidetic and an instinct for command that still seems incongruous in one so young. It became apparent from the first senior officers' briefing that the humour and flippancy were elements in a smokescreen; a mere front concealing an underlying seriousness and a quest for perfection you recognise because it mirrors your own. And this is...surprising.

You wonder, though, if it predates that first briefing, this connection you still refuse to name. You suspect your reassessment began with these words, "Spock, it'll work". Began with a level gaze that saw through your statistics and your uncertainty to steady and inspire. He did not touch you. Yet you saw those eyes, you heard those words and you felt their power through the ensuing battle and beyond. You were prepared to die then but somehow you knew that you would not. Because of those words, that gaze, and the man who was their point of origin.

And now, when your remaining lifespan can be measured in seconds, you wonder why you can find the courage to face this, your death, with equanimity, while for many months you have been unable to tell her the truth, to see the disappointment in her eyes.

Those on board the _Enterprise_ will no doubt remember your last words as brave. After you are gone they will talk of courage and selflessness, and, as evidence, they will point to your refusal to allow a rescue which would breach the Prime Directive.

Only you know the fact of your cowardice. And your secret will burn in the lava.

FIN


End file.
